


two headlights shine through the sleepless night

by alovelylight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovelylight/pseuds/alovelylight
Summary: They gazed at each other for a few long moments, years of clumsy fumbling and giddy intimacy in darkness allowing them the ability to distinguish each other’s features in the low lighting. Percy wondered if Oliver was going to launch forward and press his mouth against his, but the latter didn’t seem to be in any urge to move.“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Percy asked weakly, darting his eyes away.





	two headlights shine through the sleepless night

Percy’s bedroom was bathed in dusky light, leaving the two boys inside it in grey. Oliver eyed the orderly books, quill arrangements, and random Muggle equipment (remnants from Percy’s time with Penelope) around him with curiosity, but the owner of the room just slumped down on his bed and kicked off his shoes.

“Care to join me?” he asked the other boy with a teasing smile, but only half-meant it. He was too tired for sex; he had spent the day traipsing around Diagon Alley with his family, and among everyone who knew him, he was a notorious introvert. By the time they were done shopping for new textbooks and quills, he was snapping at his brothers with more enthusiasm than usual.

“You’re tired,” said Oliver, coming to sit on the edge of Percy’s bed. The cautiousness of his movement caught Percy’s attention. “Maybe I should come at another time.”

“No,” he protested, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Oliver. "Don't leave just now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, reaching across to squeeze his arm. “Just – don’t make a lot of noise. Not like how you are in our dormitory, like you have bloody elephant’s feet. Fred and George’s bedroom is next to mine, you know.”

“Hey, I’m not that loud!”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Percy arched his eyebrows. “I had to cast _silencio_ at you when we learned it. Got more sleep in that week than in my entire career at Hogwarts.”

“That pissed me off so much,” Oliver laughed. “But it did do you some good; you definitely needed sleep. I was tired of checking up on you throughout the night to see that you hadn’t crashed.”

“Like you’re much better! You’d rather break your fingers than have your Quidditch model away from you, so don’t think of lecturing me about healthy habits.”

“You’re right, lecturing is much more your area of expertise.” His fingers found Percy’s heap of red curls, and indulged himself in twirling them around his fingers. Percy closed his eyes, letting himself go in the usual comfort of Oliver – it was quiet moments like these, grey at the edges and bright and burning inside, that left him a little more in love.

“You look lovely when you sleep,” Oliver’s voice suddenly murmured through the seeping darkness.

“Uh, _what_?” Percy blinked.

“I mean – you’re usually so serious and high-strung when you’re awake – it’s just nice, you know, to see you _relax_ and be at peace.”

“You don’t need to tell me I’m high-strung,” he said in a clipped voice, and turned away from Oliver, bending his knees towards himself.

“Perce, come on, you know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant. You think I’m a prissy killjoy who’s got a stick up his arse.”

“No, I don’t!” Oliver’s voice scraped with frustration, and Percy thought about giving in for a second. “That’s your problem: you think you know everything. I’m telling you that’s not what I meant, so why don’t you listen?”

He hated it whenever he fought with Oliver. Not just _bickered_ , which was something they’ve got in the habit of doing since eleven, but whenever their stubbornness and determination – both had it in equal measure – met with clashing force. “Alright, alright, I reacted too fast. Tell me, then.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Perce,” Oliver sighed. “You don’t need to be on the defense all the time, no-one wants to hurt you. Not purposefully, anyway. Least of all me, as I am currently in your bedroom with the full knowledge that you can _stupefy_ me at any given moment.”

“I would never jinx you, Ol. No matter how tempting it is.”

“High compliments.”

They gazed at each other for a few long moments, years of clumsy fumbling and giddy intimacy in darkness allowing them the ability to distinguish each other’s features in the low lighting. Percy wondered if Oliver was going to launch forward and press his mouth against his, but the latter didn’t seem to be in any urge to move.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Percy asked weakly, darting his eyes away.

“You’re very beautiful. I like to look at you.”

“Christ, Oliver,” he ran a hair through his hair, breathing out slowly. He did not just say that.

“Too honest for you?” It was an accusation, no question about that, but there was hurt too.

“No, just took me by surprise,” he managed to smile, moving over so that there was space for Oliver on the bed. He patted it. “Come here, you numbskull.”

Oliver’s burly muscles added more weight to his four-poster, but Percy didn’t mind. He could smell the cracks of summer heat and sweet wisps of wind on Oliver’s skin, and it reminded him of laughter-filled days where Charlie dragged him out of his room to play Quidditch with his brothers. Days that left Percy feeling like he was made of air and light and strength. Maybe that was why he liked Oliver Wood so much – he made Percy feel that way again, like he had life dancing through him.

“You should stay the night,” he said, surprising himself alongside Oliver.

“Perce, are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Well, I’ve got nothing going on at home.” His tone suggested nonchalance, but Percy felt his delight in the tangle of limbs that they became shortly after. He tried not to think too much about the next morning, when sunlight would filter through his blinds and he would have to scrape Oliver’s hands and eyes from his skin.


End file.
